


The Children Who Lost Their Way

by Kammy



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Angst, I can't believe this took 8422 words, M/M, More angst, Roleswap, dump my body in a trashcan, put me out of my misery, way too fucking long
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-07-10 22:28:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7010938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kammy/pseuds/Kammy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Well at least I’d try to catch you. If I fell you probably wouldn’t even notice. You’d probably be too busy having your nose in a book, or brooding about your own problems. I could be bleeding out and it would probably take you a couple of hours to realize it.”</p><p>(In which Hide vanishes, and all Kaneki knows is that it hurts.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Children Who Lost Their Way

**Author's Note:**

> There are like--ten??--hidekane roleswap fics already, I think. Yet somehow I felt like I needed to write another one. Ahahaha. This is 8,422 words of pure self-hatred. Yes, I hate myself for writing this.
> 
> Special thanks to Kendra (for listening to me talk about the idea), Connor (who edited), and Sandro (who laughed in my face--I deserve it).

Hide went missing, and it took Kaneki three days to notice.

When Hide didn’t show up to class, Kaneki assumed he was skipping—a weird habit Hide had gotten into since getting out of the hospital but nothing much to worry about, Kaneki had decided. When he didn’t respond to Kaneki’s message— _do you need notes again?—_ Kaneki didn’t let himself think anything worrying. It had only been one—two—ten hours.

(— _twenty hours—twenty four—)_

And when it was clear Hide wasn’t replying, it had to be because Kaneki did something wrong. He’d offended Hide somehow. Maybe he’d said something? And then Kaneki was checking his last messages, replaying everything he said recently, rethinking their last talk.

_See you at Big Girl again on Friday, right?_

…Something, he must have done something wrong. Even if he didn’t know what exactly.

Kaneki thought.

Hide had been… tense, lately. Not angry. Or maybe? Was he angry? Lately, he seemed to be moving all the time, wired, always changing the subject and speaking just a little louder than he usually did, talking over Kaneki, cutting him off—

—and he didn’t look happy when they had burgers together anymore.

Maybe it had been something building for a while. Something wrong in general with the way Kaneki had been acting around him. Something wrong with how Kaneki had been treating him since he’d gotten out of the hospital. Maybe it was just—him, Kaneki himself. Hide was finally getting sick of him.

Kaneki thought carefully before texting.

_ >If I did something wrong you can tell me. _

_ >It’s okay if you don’t want to though. _

Three days, and Friday rolled around. Hide hadn’t been to any classes. He hadn’t responded to Kaneki’s few messages. So maybe it wasn’t Kaneki, maybe something was wrong, really wrong. Like Hide had gotten complications from his organ transplant, or he’d gotten into another accident and had somehow been hospitalized.

That thought was enough to make Kaneki move.

(The café… Kaneki had stopped going there shortly after Hide had been working… the girl there didn’t like him and Hide never really could talk to him when he was working so…)

Kaneki didn’t know what he was expecting when he decided to go there and talk to the staff. He didn’t think about it too much. Maybe a thought of seeing Hide there, just fine, smiling with that girl as they worked. Maybe he gave a bit of thought to what he’d say to the employees if Hide wasn’t there, if he really needed to explain how worried he was.

Maybe he hadn’t really been thinking much about it, but in any case he wasn’t expecting—

_That._

The window smashed, covered up with tarp. Stray bits of glass that had missed being cleaned up around the sidewalk. An empty, torn up place inside the bits of window that were intact and uncovered so he could peek in.

Anteiku was closed, and the staff—and Hide—seemed nowhere in sight.

* * *

 

It’s not as though Kaneki didn’t try.

He tried to find someone on the staff to talk to—the manager, or maybe that girl—but they were nowhere to be found. Kaneki had never gotten their contact info because he had never needed to. He tried notifying the police. They seemed efficient, professional, but they told him they’d look into it and that he shouldn’t bother himself with it anymore. He tried to notify Hide’s parents and they were unreachable at first, only to coldly shrug him off once he told them what had happened.

(did Hide’s parents… not care about him? How had Kaneki missed that?)

He tried to file a missing person’s report. He did file it, in fact. He waited, and was told they were doing their best. It turned out that the police didn’t have to keep him updated on the search. He wasn’t Hide’s _family_ after all.

Weeks. Weeks and no word about Hide. Kaneki started to look on his own, ask around with people who might have witnessed what happened to Anteiku, call up people who were supposed to be on the case and plead with them. Things like that. Not much. Not enough.

It was hard to do anything when he didn’t even know where to start. It was all desperate fumbling in the dark, panic that boiled underneath his skin every moment of his daily life.

And then, the manager.

It was hard to get a hold of him. Kaneki only managed it by chance, really, seeing him somewhere and running after him as soon as he recognized him. A hasty, breathy exchange later, the old man was inviting him into the room above the ruined café.

The old man’s eyes were shut in a gentle smile, his every motion relaxed and reassuring. Kind, but Kaneki was a little on edge even as he sipped the tea the old man gave him, even as he blurted out all his questions and worries about Hide and what had happened to the café. The man took it all in, nodding seriously. Kaneki could feel himself being sized up.

“Hideyoshi,” the old man said slowly, as though measuring each word. “He was a good worker. Always on time. Always… energetic. On the day the café was attacked by some ruffians—that’s what the damage is about, you see—he hadn’t shown up. He’d been absent from his shift. I don’t know why or what happened to him, but he hasn’t contacted me since. I have no idea what the trouble is, but I have been hoping he is well.”

Kaneki blinked. “But,” he started, only to stop. “He didn’t come to his shift? He wasn’t there when all that happened?”

The old man slowly shook his head.

“What could have happened to him then?” Kaneki asked.

The manager frowned sadly.

“Young man… Kaneki, did you say your name was?” he started. “It’s probably best for your own well-being if you let matters rest. Unfortunately, we live in a world where it’s not uncommon for people to go missing and never be heard from again.”

“But…” Kaneki started again, only to find he didn’t have anything to say.

“You’ll find in life that you don’t always get satisfying answers or resolutions to things,” the manager continued, stopping for a moment to look into his own mug. “The best thing to do is to keep on living as well as you can. Maybe Hideyoshi will return on his own. And if he doesn’t, I’m sure he wouldn’t want you to neglect yourself over it.”

Kaneki felt his face crumble. He found himself gripping his cup a little too hard. “You’re just telling me to give up? It’s only been a few weeks, I…”

“Give up on this,” the manager said, “And live your own life.”

Kaneki thought of his own life. Long hours alone, reading. Lectures, studying, exams. Silences that stretched on and on.

“I can’t,” he said.

* * *

 

Kaneki looked at his measly savings and the money his mother had set aside for him to go to college and he compared it to the fees he would need for a private investigator. In the end, it wasn’t a tough choice to make.

The first one scoffed told him Kaneki didn’t have enough to afford his prices. The second one blinked at him, rubbed the back of his head awkwardly and told him he only did background searches and identity theft and the like—he wasn’t qualified to handle a case like that.

The third one looked at him over a cup of black coffee, eyes heavy and circled from a lack of sleep. “I’ll solve this one for you for free,” he said. “Your buddy’s dead. He got chomped by a ghoul. That’s what the deal is when someone vanishes like that, you see. It’s not worth wasting your money over, kid.”

“That…” Kaneki tried to object but the man cut him off.

“Not worth wasting my time over,” he said. “Now get out. I have other clients waiting.”

It’s not like Kaneki stopped trying after that. But his attempts turned up less and less, and then it became a game of waiting. Waiting to hear something from the police. Waiting for someone to call the number on one of the missing person posters.

Waiting.

And then—realizing.

Realizing that maybe there was really nothing he could do. Realizing that maybe he could have done something, but the time had already long past. Realizing that he hadn’t done anything at all—that his only friend in the entire world had slipped quietly through his fingers.

Realizing that Hide was his only friend at all. Realizing how he went days without a single person so much as looking in his direction, how quiet his hours were, how empty every moment was.

* * *

 

Kaneki still could feel the echo of the terrible ache he’d felt in his chest when he found out Hide had been in the hospital. Sometimes, even if he was grounded, he could still feel the shakiness that had practically made him crumble on that day. Hide—crushed underneath steel beams—hurt— _dying_? His innards had quailed at the news, his head rang from it.

 _No,_ was all he’d heard inside, blood pounding in his ears. _No, no, no._

Back then he’d dreamed up a million things to do when Hide woke up. He needed to hug him. He needed to pay for at least 177 of his meals at Big Girl. He needed to tell him… tell him…

_(…what?)_

And then Hide woke up, and they were walking side by side again. Hide’s laugh was as bright and obnoxious as ever.

Kaneki could isolate a moment from this time where Hide walked ahead of him, and Kaneki stopped for a moment. He had looked at the back of Hide’s head and everything had collapsed inside him. His windpipe closed, his eyes stung, his face trembled with the threat of sobs he had to stifle with a hand to his mouth.

_“Thank you, Hide. Thank you for being here, for surviving, for texting me every day, for coming to the same university, for everything. You saved my life by being my friend and if you had died I don’t know what I would do.”_

He really wanted to run forward and grab Hide, hold him tight and say all those things. The words were practically jumping out of his throat, and yet—and yet—

It was all so terrifying.

Hide stopped in front of him, but didn’t turn back or say anything. Kaneki stood there, chest tight and feeling ready to explode. He took a deep breath, and stopped himself from making any noise.

“Hey,” Hide said, turning his head just slightly, voice getting soft. “You okay?”

In the end, Kaneki just swallowed and grasped the end of his shirt, waiting a moment.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

If Hide noticed his voice was suddenly hoarse or his eyes were red when he finally turned and looked at him, he didn’t mention it. And if Kaneki started to feel that same acute pain swell in his chest sometimes when Hide smiled at him after all that—it wasn’t much. At least it was bearable.

“I’m glad you’re okay” was enough. Anything more felt like stepping onto uncertain ground.

And now, Hide was gone.

Now, Kaneki had to go to Hide’s apartment and box up his things—the landlady was going to throw them out, she had said, if Hide wasn’t back by a certain time. There wasn’t much to pack up. It would be easy. Instead, though, Kaneki sat there on the floor and felt the pain swell in his chest again until he was clutching his arms tight enough for it to hurt.

And he tried not to cry, but he did anyway, still trying to choke it down even as he could see his tears fall on the carpet. At least no one was there to see. At least.

He didn’t get much done that day, or the next. Something rebelled in him every time he went there. Still, the boxes somehow got filled—little by little. He came back again and again because there was nothing else left to do. Hide’s place was eventually stripped and everything packed into boxes, and those boxes were packed away.

It felt like giving up.

* * *

 

Kaneki began to contemplate how long it was supposed to take to get over something like this. People got over things like this. Realistically, he knew that the loss of Hide would eventually stop feeling like the loss of Kaneki’s own heart. He wasn’t sure if he _wanted_ it to stop, though. He didn’t want this to suddenly mean less to him.

He just wanted Hide back.

It was hard to eat, sometimes. The food in his refrigerator seemed to spoil so fast, and swallowing things seemed like a joyless chore. Even burgers seemed disgusting a lot of the time. One meal a day was enough to get by.

It was hard to listen, too. Classes seemed to fade into a meaningless haze. His grades weren’t in danger, but he felt like he was slipping.

Anteiku, the coffee shop Hide used to work at, reopened. Kaneki went there once, only to leave hastily. To see the place up and running, so full of energy, like Hide had never existed—it was too much. He didn’t return there again.

It had been three—four— _five_ —months since Hide had disappeared.

(… _six months_ )

Kaneki didn’t feel any more over it. But the emptiness and the pain were starting to settle comfortably into regular mess of emotions that burdened him each day.

He celebrated his birthday on his own. Or—not celebrated. One cold morning he woke and realized it had snuck up on him. There was nothing to do so he went out to Big Girl at one of the quieter hours and ate by himself. He thought about Hide because it was impossible not to, after the birthdays they’d celebrated with just the two of them.

 _He’s not coming back,_ is what he thought, walking home. _He’s never coming back. He’s dead. He’s dead. I never even…_

And then—

Kaneki stopped.

On the corner under a streetlight, just a little ways from Kaneki’s apartment—a flash of bright blond and orange against the dark. It was too late to be able to tell at a glance but—

“Hide?” Kaneki stepped forward. He was too quiet; he couldn’t even hear himself. “Hide?!”

The person under the streetlight looked up.

* * *

 

Hide had always been the one reaching out, always the one to run up and snatch Kaneki into a hug from behind. It had always seemed like second nature on his part, something that came as easily to him as breathing even if Kaneki could never imagine doing the same.

Was it easy, though?

Kaneki ran forward, heart pounding in his ribcage. But he didn’t leap forward or open his arms. Instead, he slowed. Stopped. Waited. Held himself back, because the thought reaching out physically caused a familiar surge of terror—and the terror won out over the rush of excitement.

“Hide,” he breathed.

“…Kaneki.”

(Maybe it was because of how Hide had stepped back with one foot, drawing himself up. Like he was bracing himself for Kaneki. Like Kaneki was some kind of wave about to topple over him and throw him off his feet.)

It was snowing. It had started snowing when Kaneki was walking back, and now he could see little bits of it floating down in the streetlight around Hide’s face. And Hide’s face—Kaneki couldn’t read it. It blurred over a moment, and when everything cleared Hide’s eyes seemed wide and lined with exhaustion more than happiness at seeing him.

Quiet. Kaneki’s heart thrummed in his chest, pulse ringing in his ears. Hide didn’t say a word, didn’t twitch. He only held Kaneki’s gaze quietly. Kaneki held his breath, waiting—expecting to hear Hide fill the silence again if he just waited long enough. Expecting him to reach out, like he always did.

But he didn’t. Hide was still, like a deer that might startle and run if Kaneki made the wrong move. And yet—Kaneki had to be the one to move, didn’t he?

“You’re back,” Kaneki said, feeling his voice turn a little squeaky. “I can’t believe… I’m so glad. I… are you alright?”

Hide’s lips opened. He still didn’t say anything, and that was terrifying.

“It’s been so long,” Kaneki said. “I—”

Would it be wrong to talk about how worried he was all this time? To burden Hide with that? It would be wrong. He had to bury that. Focus on something else.

“Are you cold? Your jacket looks—mm.” Hide was wearing a summer jacket, an old one Kaneki remembered him having. It looked worn. Kaneki felt the urge to take off his coat and give it to Hide, but that would be too much. “It’s snowing. Um—do you want to go back to my place? Warm up?”

Hide’s face tightened with some sort of emotion. “Yeah,” he said. “That would be good.”

Kaneki’s hand flailed a moment. Like he couldn’t touch Hide, or he might vanish, but he also might vanish if Kaneki didn’t get a good grip on him. His fist ended up curling tightly at his side. “Okay, um, this way, then.”

* * *

 

The walk back was quick, but it was one of the few times Kaneki found himself running his mouth to fill the silence. He hardly even knew what he was talking about—classes since Hide was gone, his recent trip to Big Girl, the weather. He talked fast, nervously, and Hide just nodded and gave short answers.

“You’re really… quiet now,” Kaneki said when they got there.

This got a smile out of Hide, which caused Kaneki’s heart to race a little with excitement. “I’m tired,” Hide drawled, sounding a bit more like himself. “It’s been a long day.”

Kaneki laughed awkwardly a little at _that_ incredible understatement, fumbling for his apartment key in the cold. He kept his eyes on Hide. He did look tired. There was a kind of sag to his face now, and it made Kaneki think of his mother’s face. His eyes looked narrower, like the eyes of someone who hadn’t slept in a long time. But he didn’t dwell on that.

The door opened, and they were inside.

“I have your things,” Kaneki said. “I packed them away a while back, but they’re here.”

“Thanks,” Hide said.

“I…” Kaneki closed the door to the apartment. Somehow, he could feel the pressure in the room increase at that. Like the air had suddenly gotten thick and heavy and it was squeezing him in. His heart pounding and he didn’t know if it was excitement or--what? “I…”

His face was crumbling. At least it was dark. He hadn’t turned the light on yet.

“I missed you,” he said hoarsely. “It’s been so long—I thought…”

He was looking down, avoiding Hide’s eyes as tears spilled stubbornly out. He covered his face, trying to let this crying fit pass as quickly as possible.

“Kaneki,” Hide’s voice was dry. “Kaneki.”

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and it moved to his arms—his wrists. Hide pulled his hands away from his face and buried him in a hug. Kaneki clutched back with all the fervor he’d been trying to kill inside himself. He let his head rest against Hide’s shoulder like that as he let out his sobs. They rocked back and forth.

“I’m sorry,” Hide’s voice was cracking. “I’m so sorry.”

And behind closed doors, in the dark, none of this seemed unbearable or weird. In the dark, it was okay to cry his eyes out on his best friend’s shoulder. It was okay if Hide’s lips pressed against Kaneki’s neck, if Kaneki sighed as he did.

It was okay.

He didn’t have to think about it much.

* * *

 

Kaneki was certain it had been a dream when he woke up. But then he found Hide in the kitchen, head in the cupboards so Kaneki could just see his blonde hair.

(Lighter than he remembered it, brassier than he remembered it. The dark roots were gone and the hair seemed to fall flatly on his head, thinner than he remembered it. And not the color you got from bleaching it. A bright color that came from a bottle, probably. Just a little more fake.)

Still, Kaneki thought his heart would burst from happiness. Hide was here, he was back. Everything would be okay now.

He didn’t have to say anything or even make a noise; Hide turned around like he’d sensed him.  His eyebrows were thinner and lighter than Kaneki remembered. Still, he immediately beamed in some kind of imitation of the way he used to, so Kaneki could--forget it.

“Yo, Kaneki! You sleep well?” Hide asked brightly.

They had slept in the same bed, together, just inches apart. But Kaneki didn’t feel like bringing that up. “Yeah.”

And Hide laughed—loudly, and not for any reason Kaneki could pinpoint. “Oh man,” he said. “I forgot to tell you yesterday. Happy Birthday! Man, can you believe I came all this way, thinking I was going to say that, and then I just forgot? Until the day after?”

Came all this way… from where? Kaneki was afraid to ask. “Yeah, I can believe it,” he said. “Because you’re a scatterbrain.”

Hide took a split second longer to process this than he normally would have, and then pressed his hand to his chest. It looked like an uncommitted gesture someone might make in a school play. Like someone playing the character of a fool or a jester. “Kaneki,” he whined. “How _could_ you? I’ve come all this way and you stab me in the back like that!”

Kaneki started to crack a smile.

“Are you going to laugh at me now?” Hide complained loudly. “Are you getting joy from my suffering, Kaneki? Is that it?”

“Well, when you act so funny about it…”

“Unbelievable! My own best friend!” Hide nearly shrieked.

Suddenly Hide was rambling—something about needing coffee?—and Kaneki could almost believe it was six months ago, before anything had happened. Almost. But then Kaneki thought about all that time—six whole months—and he could feel the smile slowly slipping off his face. Hide had been _somewhere._ And hadn’t come back that long. And hadn’t told anyone where or why.

…something had happened.

They should… talk about it.

Kaneki opened his mouth to start to say something. But Hide gave him a look, and suddenly slammed his fists on the counter, interrupting Kaneki’s thoughts.

“You know? Let’s go out. Do something _fun,”_ he said excitedly.

“Well…” Kaneki said.

“Dude,” Hide said. “I bet you just stayed in for your birthday like a boring, boring old bookworm. That’s Not Acceptable, okay? Not at all! We need to go out and hit the—hit the—hit all the places! Movies! Burger joints! Amusement parks! Water parks!”

“…It’s winter.”

“Nightclubs! Strip joints!”

“ _Hide_ ,” Kaneki frowned disapprovingly, feeling a bit like a mom. “No. And—and no! We’re underage! No alcohol!”

“Awww,” Hide pouted. “Are you judging me? Are you gonna drop me like a hot potato if I reveal I’ve become an immoral delinquent recently?”

Kaneki sighed. Before he could even say anything, Hide’s eyes were flashing again. He looked like he was going to grab Kaneki for a moment, but instead he turned away quickly.

“Let’s go!” he said instead, making for the door.

“Hide wait—I’m not dressed— _Hide_!”

* * *

 

They went to a bookstore, despite Hide’s talk about going somewhere wild and full of noise. Kaneki had the space and quiet to watch Hide’s every action, to absorb it all. Hide’s talk was a lot more trivial than Kaneki remembered, and a lot more rushed and scattered.

“Coffee!” he said as he caught sight of the café attached to the store. “Buddy. Pal. This way. I need my caffeine.”

“Are you sure you need it, considering you’re so hyper already?” Kaneki grumbled.

Hide’s laughed. “Dude, you have no idea. Come on!”

Kaneki ordered a regular cup with milk and sugar. Hide laughed and poked fun at him, and ordered a triple shot of espresso.

“Really?” Kaneki asked as they sat down. “How long have you been a coffee snob?”

“For practically a year, man,” Hide complained. “You never noticed? College will do things to you. Terrible things. It _changes_ you.”

He looked out the window, comically serious for a moment. Kaneki laughed. And then, a thought occurred to him.

“So, are you going to make up the semester?” he asked. “I mean—you’ll have to re-take all those classes right?.”

Hide looked at him. Kaneki didn’t see his face even twitch, and yet he immediately felt a pang of guilt. Bad question, he realized.

Hide seemed about to answer, but then his eye caught something behind Kaneki and he started to flail his arms excitedly. “Takatsuki Sen!” he said. “Oh man, I forgot to tell you I’ve been reading her books! Or wait, did I tell you?” He scratched his head.

“N-no you didn’t,” Kaneki said. He could almost forget the obvious subject change—almost. “Which ones—or wait. Are you lying?”

“Lying?” Hide looked fake-stunned.

He plopped his lower half on the table dramatically--and way too suddenly--practically knocking over Kaneki’s drink in the process. Kaneki jumped. “Hi-Hide!” he cried.

Hide just groaned, dragging his head up from the table to look at Kaneki with the most hurt expression, stilling clutching his espresso in one hand. “Kaneki—how could you accuse me this way? I would never! Never!”

Kaneki crossed his arms, raising his eyebrows.

“You don’t believe me?” Hide whined, practically launching himself up from the table. The quickness of the gestures made him look a bit like a rag doll that had been jerked up by a string for a moment, but then he put his hands firmly down on the table, ready to defend himself. How he had not spilled the coffee in his right hand yet, Kaneki didn’t know. “I read the one about the black goat lady and her son—all the way to the end! I didn’t even skim over the gory parts. Man though, were there gory parts. What the son did to that guy at the end? That was preeeetty fucked up. Also—who killed Taro? They never explained who did that!”

Kaneki sighed. “Hide, if you’re hung up on who did it then you’ve missed the point. The point isn’t who did it or what happened. The point is that the protagonist feels nothing about it by the end, because he stopped being able to feel—”

“Okay, okay, Mr. Literature major,” Hide rolled his eyes, sicking his coffe while giving Kaneki a mocking raise of the eyebrows. “I get it. You’re too deep for me.”

Kaneki sighed. “Stick to manga then,” he grumbled.

Hide looked at him silently for a moment, and then leaned forward to rest his face on his hands. “Hey,” Hide said. “I didn’t say you should stop talking about the book.”

The smile he gave Kaneki let Kaneki know how fake all of his other ones had been that day. Kaneki immediately felt his heart lift—and wrench a bit. “Oh, o-okay,” he said, stumbling a bit over his words as he tried to continue his thoughts from earlier. “The thing—the thing about Taro is…”

And they talked. Kaneki hadn’t expected to ever really have a conversation about Takatsuki’s books like this, where he got to talk about all he wanted to and yet Hide had enough funny—and surprisingly insightful, sometimes?—interjections and questions. Hide seemed to calm down a bit as they talked, and he sipped his coffee.

This was it then, Kaneki realized. He should just—avoid certain topics for now. It became clearer which ones as they talked. A brief mention of Hide’s parents got him a blank, stony face—they probably didn’t know Hide was back. Questions about the future got graceful evasions. Questions about what had happened—well, Kaneki didn’t even go that far.

It was fine. Just, forgetting things and having a pleasant moment was fine. As long as Hide was there, everything would work out.

He thought about last night, the crying and hugging and the—but that had just been a quick, hasty thing brought on by fickle emotions. Not anything that would be permanent. He couldn’t expect every interaction with Hide to be like— _that_ , from now on.

Everything would be fine. Things were mostly normal, like they used to be before Hide left. That was important.

They bought books, left the bookstore, and wandered. It all felt easy enough. They sped through so many places, never stopping. Hide seemed to want to do everything at once: going into every shop, burying his face in soft clothes, smelling perfumes, challenging Kaneki to race him (he won every time).

They eventually went back to the apartment in the afternoon. Kaneki started to pull out Hide’s boxes, but noticed Hide’s lack of reaction when he brought them out. A sort of unsettling blankness compared to the over the top enthusiasm from earlier.

“I don’t want to look at the stuff right now,” Hide said, lightly. He laughed. “It’ll be such a pain to unpack everything. I’ll get to it later.”

And it was weird, and Kaneki worried, but it was okay. It was just the first day with him back.

But then—

There was a book signing with Takatsuki Sen later that day. Kaneki found out about it at the bookstore and they agreed to go later in the day. But then, when they returned later that evening, Hide took in one deep breath and froze. Kaneki noticed it, but didn’t think it was a big deal until Hide grabbed his arm.

It was the first time Hide had touched him since last night, he realized. No sudden hugs or casual touches all day—Kaneki realized. That wasn’t like Hide--that was--even with the way things had been last night--that was not _him_.

Kaneki felt his stomach drop a bit.

“Hide? What’s wrong?”

“Let’s get out of here,” Hide said. “Better idea. Um, arcade?”

“Hide—Takatsuki hasn’t even come out yet,” Kaneki said.

Hide tugged his arm, and smiled widely, stiffly. “C’mon,” he said. “We were here earlier.”

Kaneki opened his mouth to object, to ask for an explanation. But he already knew what he was going to do.

“Okay,” Kaneki said. “Let’s go.”

* * *

 

Something was wrong.

It was clear something was the matter since they left the book signing, because Hide was suddenly rambling in that frenzied way again, talking about trains and coffee and laughing at things weren’t really funny and weren’t even really jokes. Like he had to cover up something in the silence.

Kaneki didn’t like the arcade. It was loud and full of people—he couldn’t hear Hide well over the people around them and he couldn’t hear himself either. He couldn’t even really remember Hide liking arcades, either. Even now, his eyes were just flashing around.

“So,” Hide said. “Fighting game? You wanna take me on?”

He laughed. Kaneki tried to laugh with him. Hide sighed.

“Okay,” he said, running his hands through his hair. “I’m sorry. I know you wanted to go to the book signing.”

“It’s okay,” Kaneki said. “You can take me another time?”

Hide laughed, eyes wide and glassy. It didn’t sound like the laughs he could remember from his friend. It was flat and low. “Yeah,” he said. “Of course.”

They played games. It wasn’t terrible. Hide did smile as he played—thinly, but it was there. He gave up quickly, though, dramatically slamming the fake gun back into its fake holster with mock despair.

“Damn, you’ve beaten me again!” he cried melodramatically. “Alright, enough. I need to take a break.”

“You’re leaving?” Kaneki blurted.

“Awww, getting separation anxiety, Kaneki? You baby,” he laughed and it made Kaneki feel just a little cold. “Yeah, I just need to get some water dude. I’ll be back.”

When he was gone, Kaneki noticed the fake gun Hide was playing with had been broken. Like the handle was just a little—crushed. And the trigger had been broken. But Hide had just been playing so…

He was taking too long. Kaneki left to find him, and saw him looking out, scanning the crowd… sniffing?

Hide didn’t see him, so Kaneki slipped away.

* * *

 

Something was definitely wrong.

They left the arcade too quickly and suddenly Hide couldn’t decide between ice skating or bowling, and he spent a moment practically tearing out his hair, trying to decide.

“Argh!” he chattered. “Bowling is fun, I guess, but it’s less fun when it’s only two people. Right Kaneki? Right?”

“I… not sure? I only went once,” Kaneki shrugged.

“Ice skating is cool but—girly? Do you think ice skating is girly, Kaneki?”

Kaneki was sure that Hide’s over the top, wild expression was a show meant to amuse him. Part of some joke meant to distract them both from… something. So Kaneki laughed, and Hide grabbed his shoulders tightly.

“Help me out here buddy!” Hide said, shaking him. “Girly? Or not girly?”

“Hi—what,” Kaneki laughed, a little amused, a little taken aback by how roughly Hide was shaking him. “There’s nothing wrong with—girly stuff.”

“You _say_ that,” Hide said. “But how do I know you’re not secretly judging me? How do I know, man?”

“Hide—stop,” Kaneki gasped.

And Hide did—abruptly enough that Kaneki felt his head spin. He took a moment to gather himself. His heart was racing. Hide looked at him, smile vanishing.

“Oh geez,” he said. “Sorry. You okay?”

“You don’t know your own strength,” Kaneki gasped. He tried to laugh. _That went a little too far._ “Anyway—we can do both?”

Hide seemed to perk up at that. “Kaneki, that’s brilliant! What would I ever do without you?”

Kaneki shot him a look. That enthusiasm was so ridiculously over the top and fake that it sounded like sarcasm. Or a nervous attempt to lighten the mood by someone desperately trying not to seem nervous at all.

Something was _definitely_ wrong.

Kaneki felt fear sink into his limbs like sickly poison, but he ignored it.

“You were thinking the same thing,” he grumbled. “You’re just dragging everything out like a drama queen.”

“Mean!” Hide complained. “So mean! You’re so rude to me, Kaneki. Anyway—what first?”

Kaneki sighed.

They went bowling first. Hide seemed lighthearted enough, still smiling just the right amount and flailing exaggeratedly at everything that happened. His gestures became—harsh, though. He slammed the bowling balls too hard, and went through every movement too quickly and abruptly.

When they left—again too quickly—Kaneki decided not to say anything about it.

* * *

 

Uncanny valley: a phenomenon in which computer generated figures or humanoids were the most terrifying when they were just a sliver away from perfectly imitating humans. It was the closeness to human beings that made them so frightful. So close, so near to something familiar and comfortable—and yet _not_.

Kaneki remembered hearing about it when a lecturer at Kamii was using it to explain why dolls—particularly their realistic and yet unblinking eyes—were often used to evoke fear in horror stories. Now, he wondered if the same could be said for other things that were familiar and yet unfamiliar just by the most slight differences. Like seeing a smile that wasn’t quite a smile, that didn’t quite reach the eyes. Or a laugh that didn’t quite sound happy.

Or a friend who acted mostly like what Kaneki remembered and yet—and _yet_ …

(Hide’s eyes: they were a bit like a doll’s eyes now, weren’t they? Unblinking, unaffected even as he smiled.)

“This place isn’t big enough,” Hide whined after skating around the rink for the fifth—sixth time? “I’m going to go insane, Kaneki! I just keep going around in circles.”

Hide’s movements were an imitation. He seemed frenzied and yet exhausted at the same time, putting in too much effort to make everything seem carefree. But—the best thing had to be humor him, right? Let him do what he had to make—whatever he was having a problem with—feel better.

“Well,” Kaneki said. “There’s not much else to do… unless you know how to do spins or something.”

“I don’t know, though,” Hide sighed. He skated ahead, and managed to flip around so he’s skating backwards ahead of Kaneki. Kaneki smiled a bit, and Hide continued. “They should make this place bigger!”

“How big?” Kaneki asked

Hide managed to gesture broadly with his arms. “Bigger! Big enough to take up the block! To take up two blocks! So you can skate and skate like its—”

Hide was skating backwards, but Kaneki was the one who stumbled. His skates had felt tight and slippery underneath him the whole time, and so a tiny indentation in the ice was enough to bring him down. He yelped, certain he was about to hit the floor. Hide reached for him, and but Kaneki managed to steady himself first.

“Woah there,” Hide laughed. “Do I need to be ready to catch you like a shoujo prince?”

Kaneki grumbled at him. “Some shoujo prince you would be,” he says.

Hide huffed, and they start skating again, Hide turning around to skate forward. Kaneki couldn’t see his face. “Well at least I’d try to catch you,” Hide laughed. “If I fell you probably wouldn’t even notice. You’d probably be too busy having your nose in a book, or brooding about your own problems.”

His voice was light, but it felt like a cold slap against the face. Kaneki opened his mouth to say something, but Hide spoke over him.

“I could be bleeding out and it would probably take you a couple of hours to realize it,” he said, a bit more quietly.

“Hide,” Kaneki frowned. “That’s—no…”

“Joking! Joking!” Hide says brightly, waving his hand to dismiss it. Kaneki still can’t see his face, but there’s something buried in his voice that Kaneki doesn’t like. Something bitter. Something cold. “Anyway…”

And Hide starts rattling on, but Kaneki didn’t hear him over the sudden pain that floods his nerves. Was Hide angry at him? His throat felt dry, but he wanted to speak, wanted to say something—wanted to reach out. Reassure Hide, reassure himself. He _should_ say something. Do something.

(He thinks of last night, and feels his heart speed up.)

“Hide,” he started, but Hide didn’t seem to hear him. “Hide!”

Hide stopped—awkwardly, clutching the side of the rink to steady himself. He looked over the edge, out into the city. And then, like at the arcade, he sniffed, and froze.

“Hide,” Kaneki said, and Hide again doesn’t see to hear him. Kaneki swallows, and settles for a bit of a cop out. “Are you—are you hungry? You haven’t really eaten anything all day…”

Hide straightened, and practically whipped around. “Hold on a sec,” he said. “I gotta go to the bathroom really quick. Be right back!”

“Oh… okay…”

Kaneki watched as he rushes off, and tries to smother the sudden aching he feels.

It became five—ten—twenty minutes and Hide didn’t return.

When it became thirty minutes, Kaneki realized staying there was a mistake.

* * *

 

Kaneki whipped out his phone to try to text or call, but realized that he never got a new number from Hide—the old one had deactivated some time ago due to the bill not being paid. Kaneki had been too distracted all day to ask for a new one.

When he realized he couldn’t call, he panicked. Ran in the direction he’d seen Hide leave, and tried to frantically figure out which way he had gone from there. There was no way of telling, so he circled the place for a while, jostling with the people around him.

It was an hour and a half of running blindly before he stopped, realizing the futility of it, and sat down in an alley where no one would look at him. The tears came quickly and silently after that. He covered his face. Any noise he made was drowned out by the sound of people passing by. He didn’t want to make a scene.

He got up and dried his eyes eventually because he had to. He kept walking because there was nothing else to do.

He really did not expect to find Hide again.

But then—

It was the area next to that playground they used to hang out at as kids. The one with the whale. Kaneki recognized the place and it was like seeing a flash of light. He stumbled forward, trying to remember which way to go.

He got there. All the streetlights that were supposed to lighting up the place at night were out—Kaneki’s stomach dropped. Still, he saw a flash of orange and yellow in the dark and ran toward it immediately.

It was him—it was Hide. And Kaneki was so glad again. But then Hide turned, and saw him.

“Stop,” he said firmly.

And Kaneki did. It was dark, too dark to really make out much on Hide’s face at all, and everything behind him was just a black, indistinguishable mass with only a few silhouettes. “Hey,” Kaneki said.

Hide said nothing. It was like he’d returned to that state Kaneki had found him in last night—quiet, unresponsive. Maybe he’d gotten tired of trying to be amusing and make everything fun.

“You didn’t—you didn’t come back,” Kaneki started to say. He started to walk forward.

“ _Stop_ ,” Hide repeated, louder. “Don’t come closer.”

Kaneki opened his mouth, feeling his blood rush fearfully. There were so many questions that bubbled up inside him, and that had been bubbling up since last night. Like—why were all the lights out? Why did Hide run off? What had just happened? What—what had Hide been doing the last few months? What sort of danger was he in now? What was _wrong_ with him? What—?

If he stepped forward—if he took out his phone and shone light on everything around them—then somehow, he thought, all of those questions would have answers.

But Hide had told him not to—and the thought of answers was terrifying, anyway.

“Can we go back now?” Kaneki asked.

The silence that followed his question felt long and terrible. But eventually, he heard a sigh.

“Yeah,” Hide said, stepping forward so that Kaneki could suddenly see how tired his eyes were. “Let’s get out of here.”

* * *

 

On the way back there was a bridge, and there was no one else around at the moment so Kaneki stopped. Hide walked ahead of him for a moment, but Kaneki spoke up.

“Hide.”

Hide stopped.

“We… we should talk.”

Hide turned around, and smiled. He hadn’t smiled or said anything on the way back, but now his grin was full and bright and fake. “What have we been doing all day, Kaneki?”

“I mean,” Kaneki said, feeling his throat get tight. “I mean… we need to…”

“Didn’t we decide _not_ to talk about anything?” Hide asked. “That’s the deal right? I run my mouth off and we act chummy and you pretend nothing’s happened and we have a great time. That’s the MO, right?”

It wasn’t anything they’d ever said out loud, and now that it had been it sounded like an accusation. “Are you angry at me?” Kaneki asked.

Hide tilted his head, eyes wide. “Angry? Me? At you?”

This hurt—it hurt, but Kaneki decided he had to keep going. “Hide—what did I do?”

Hide looked at him, and sighed. “Nothing,” Hide said, sounding less combative. “Really, nothing.”

He leaned over the side of the bridge. Kaneki let the silence sink in for a moment, and swallowed. “Are you sure?”

Hide didn’t say anything.

“You’ve been acting—weird, today. And yesterday,” Kaneki said. “It’s—are you really okay?”

Hide didn’t say anything.

“What happened to you?” Kaneki asked, quietly. “You—you know you can tell me, right?”

Hide waited a moment. Then, he gripped the side of the bridge, face stony, throwing his head back to look at Kaneki.

“I got a better idea,” Hide said. “How about we talk about your aunt? No wait, let’s talk about your mom. She was kind of a piece of shit to you, huh?”

A slap on the face could not have hurt more.

“You were always like ‘But my mom this’ and ‘But my mom that’ as a kid. Like you were super afraid of her all the time. You were always nervous and whenever I asked why it was always about what _she_ would think. I always thought that was weird. I was never afraid of my mom like that and it’s not because I like her. Do you want to tell me about _that,_ Kaneki?”

Kaneki didn’t say anything.

“Or we could talk about your aunt,” Hide said, sounding as chipper as ever. “How you were always at school early when you started living with her? Or how you starting losing so much weight? Or how that time she threw your books out _clearly_ wasn’t an accident but you said it was? How about we talk about that, Kaneki?”

Kaneki’s throat tightened. Hide turned around and started walking toward him.

“Didn’t I always say you could talk to me about stuff like that?” Hide asked. “But you didn’t.

“Anyway, I still figured it out because I have eyes and ears that work—but do you know anything about my parents, Kaneki? Do you know anything about _me_? You didn’t even realize how much coffee I’d been drinking before I—before I left. I used to think you were a kind person—but you know you have to be able to notice what other people are going through to be kind. You don’t see anything!”

Kaneki gulped. “I’m sorry.”

For some reason, this only made Hide mad. “ _Don’t_ apologize, fucking hell.” Hide threw his hands up. “I’m just trying to figure out—do you even see other people? Do you actually see them outside of some little stage you’ve invented in your mind? Do you realize other people have problems or is everything just your own personal show of—of _Hamlet_ or some shit?”

“I’m so—”

“Stop it!” Hide said, practically shouting this time. “I don’t want you to apologize!”

“What do you want then?” Kaneki asked, voice hoarse. He had already cried earlier but he could feel the tears welling up again. “What am I supposed to know?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? I-I don’t get it! You’re angry at me for asking what’s happening but angry at me for also… for also…”

“Just—don’t switch things around, okay?” Hide said, lowering his voice. “If you’re not going to tell me _your_ deal and you’re not going to bother with me until it gets like—like _this,_ then don’t suddenly ask what happened! Don’t say I can tell you because I can’t!”

Kaneki swallowed. “Okay.”

Hide’s face sagged. “Don’t do that,” he said. “I’m just—rgh!”

He turned away and slammed his fist against the side of the bridge, and then slouched, practically curling in on it. Kaneki jumped at the initial sound, and shrank back, watching and Hide supported himself on the railing taking deep, ragged breaths.

“What do you want me to do?” Kaneki asked. “Just—tell me. I can change… whatever it is…”

“I don’t want things to change,” Hide said, hoarse. “I want to go back to all the—what we used to do. I want everything to be the same. But it’s not. It’s not and I’m just…”

He didn’t finish his thought. Kaneki couldn’t see his face, just the back of his head. And—it hurt, it all hurt so much. He felt like his heart would burst in his chest.

“I want to have burgers again,” Hide said, under his breath. “But I can’t. They’ll just make me sick.”

Kaneki stepped forward, and reached out.

“I’m sorry,” Kaneki said, trying to keep his voice steady. “I’m sorry I never noticed what you were going through. I’m sorry I never opened up like you wanted. I’m sorry—I’m sorry I can’t make you feel better right now. I’m—I’m sorry…”

He was right there, hand outstretched, ready to touch Hide, to pull him into a hug like Hide had done to him just the night before. But the same old fear was there, and it choked him. He couldn’t breathe. Suddenly he was crying again, only this time it was too loud and he couldn’t swallow it.

“I’m sorry I can’t do anything,” he tried to say, only for it to be lost as a breathless, sobbing whisper.

Hide turned around to look at him, his eyes red and his face also streaked with tears. Kaneki had never seen Hide cry before, he realized. Now it just made him want to reach out and touch Hide’s face—but he didn’t. Instead, Hide grabbed Kaneki’s outstretched hand gently by the wrist.

“Don’t apologize,” Hide said, but he sounded softer this time. “I’m the one who’s being a piece of shit.”

Hide’s hand tightened around Kaneki’s. Kaneki couldn’t tell what the gesture was supposed to mean, but Hide looked pained.

“I’m the one in the wrong here,” Hide said. “I can’t do this. I thought I could do this but instead I ended up being a piece of shit. I’m sorry.”

Hide laughed halfheartedly for a moment. Kaneki just stared blankly, watching as Hide’s expression slowly melted, leaving nothing but blank exhaustion.

When Hide let go of his hand, there was a rough sense of finality in the gesture. When he turned and started to stumble off, Kaneki felt his heart sink.

“Where are you going?” Kaneki asked.

“Don’t know.”

“Will you—will you be back?”

“Don’t know.”

“Hide,” Kaneki said, starting to walk after him.

“Don’t follow me,” Hide said, not looking back. “Please Kaneki, don’t.”

And Kaneki—

Kaneki didn’t.

* * *

 

The next morning, the big story in the news was that several ghouls had been found skewered in an old children’s park. _Their_ park. The lights there had been smashed as the ghouls fought, apparently, and the area was now sealed off.

Kaneki didn’t go there to check.

It was two—three—four weeks when Kaneki realized Hide wasn’t coming back. Five until it really sank in. There was a lot of time to think about things then. He slowly thought them through, put the piece of the puzzle together. Hide’s abnormal strength, the black coffee, his sudden sensitivity to sensory details, certain news reports about ghoul activity in the area...

If Kaneki had managed to do more, to say something else, to reach out and hold him like he wanted to—

But thinking about that was too much.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, guess who messed up the timeline of events in the manga. Me! Guess who doesn't care. Also me! And wow, so many dashes, wtf. It's like I've been reading too much Emily Dickinson or something.
> 
> Title is adapted from Eto's book, specifically this quote: 
> 
> "The child who lost their way back home has forgotten even the fact of going back. And so, they wish for death once again."


End file.
